


gluttony

by violentdarlings



Series: seven [2]
Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: F/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentdarlings/pseuds/violentdarlings
Summary: An early morning, at Bridget's.





	

The alarm goes off far too early, as ever. Mark jerks upright even as Bridget is smacking the offending electronic device with her hand. “Better,” she mumbles.

“Bridget! You can’t just bang it until it stops alarming. Besides, I’m late. I should have been up an hour ago –”

“Saturday, Mark,” Bridget informs him from where her face is half hidden under a pillow. Mark blinks, and then relaxes back down under the sheets, his skin prickling where it had been exposed to the cold air.

“Yes, of course. Right. I suppose it is.” Bridget giggles, like he’s said something funny. “What?”

“Bridget,” she mimics in a deep voice that is evidently supposed to be his, “you can’t just bang it until it stops. Think of the poor alarm clock. Think of its rights. It deserves to live in a world free of abuse, just like those poor foreign children I’ve spent the whole week banging on about.”

“Did I really say all of that?” Mark asks, straight-faced. “How peculiar.” He can’t stay sober in the face of Bridget being amused; a smile sneaks onto his face. “You’re dreadful,” he tells her, and buries his cold nose in her neck. She squeals, and hits him.

“Beast,” she says, and it’s not deluding himself, to hear the fondness in her voice.

“You love it,” Mark replies, and she rolls over in his arms, her face soft.

“No, I love you,” she says, and yes, he is definitely grinning like an idiot, there’s just something so _magnificent_ about hearing her say it. “Cold nose and folded underpants and all.” It’s an old, gentle joke.

“And I you,” he replies, and Bridget’s smile, he really thinks, could dim the sun. Every time, it blinds and warms him in equal measure, and he can’t get enough.

“Bridget,” he mutters, and she makes a little sleepy noise. If he lets her, she’d sleep until noon on the weekends, but Mark has plans. Big plans, for today.

… all right, then, so his plans consist of morning sex and a late brunch, but they’re definitely plans.

“Bridget.”

“Mark,” she replies, a warning note in her voice. Hmm. Maybe the plans might need tweaking. Brunch will have to involve a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant, and as for the sex…

Mark slides down beneath the sheets. Bridget makes a disgruntled noise.

“What on earth are you doing down there… ah.” The last syllable comes out as a breathy gasp; Mark’s never been more grateful for her disconcerting habit of sleeping nude. “Mark,” she says, and her voice is suddenly alert. “You don’t need to… God, do that again.”

Mark grins, and gets to work. Bridget doesn’t need to know how much he loves doing this, licking into her sweet and slow, building her up. Doesn’t need to know that on their nights apart, he wanks before bed thinking about this, how it gets him so hard he can barely think straight. The hook of her legs over his shoulders, the noises she makes as he works his tongue against her – he’d never really liked doing this before Bridget, but it’s just indecent how hot she gets him, his erratic love.

She comes wailing, her heels drumming restlessly against his back, his chin wet and his jaw aching, and Mark can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. “One’s enough,” Bridget protests rather feebly when he dives back in, but a moment later she’s arching and moaning his name, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Hell, _two_ chocolate croissants. It’s going to be a good day. Mark can just feel it.

... although, that might just be Bridget he's feeling.

Either way. It's going to be a _great_ day.


End file.
